


Mac and Charlie Kiss

by thelilnan



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Anal Fingering, Awkward Romance, Biting, Blow Jobs, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fight Sex, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Violence, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilnan/pseuds/thelilnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After accidentally having sex during a violent, drunken fight, Mac and Charlie embark on a strange, dysfunctional sexual relationship. Strangely enough, Charlie seems to be handling it far better than Mac ever could.</p>
<p>Warning for poor communication, dysfunctional relationships, internalized homophobia, and Mac's general inability to cope with his sexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When you know someone for long enough, things are bound to get a little weird. It might happen fairly quickly into the relationship, say, the first five minutes when you accidentally vomit blood on your new friend’s shoes because you were huffing glue, or it might take a few years and end up with a drunken confession of past betrayal; say, fucking your friend’s love interest of the past few years. These things were bound to happen in every relationship. And, if you’re very lucky, it won’t be just once.

Charlie and Mac were very lucky.

In the sense of always having an interesting friendship, to say the least. They’d shared so much together and trusted each other to the ends of the earth, naturally. But there was as of yet one quintessentially “weird” experience they had yet to encounter.

Until Friday, September 15, at 2:05 a.m.

The two had been drinking all night and offered to lock up the bar so the others could get home and sleep off their own respective booze. Charlie opted to sleep in the manager’s office, being free of cats and general garbage smell, and Mac was, as of yet, undecided. The floor beside the couch Charlie had claimed, however, was making a strong case for being his bed for the night, as he was sprawled upon it and lazily drinking from his latest bottle of beer.

Charlie, having been talking about... birds? He was sitting next to Mac, slowly slumping down to the ground beside him, voice slurring off into an inarticulate humming as he fell asleep. Mac noticed, in a belated, drunken sort of way, that Charlie was tucked into the crook of his arm and chest, head lolling into his neck, and he _fit_ in a pretty perfect kind of way. He looked over to note this to the still-mumbling man but only made it as far as putting his nose into Charlie’s fluffy little head and _god damn_ he was hit right in the face with that nice sort of smell everyone’s hair has, regardless of shampoo. What was it, pheromones? Whatever, it smelled nice, beneath the normally unbearable stench of cheese, cat food, and urine that Charlie was infamous for. Mac indulged himself by taking in this very nice, warm smell and dozing off right alongside his friend.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t cuddled before. Every now and then, they’d end up heeped together, drunk and dead tired, drooling and snoring like drunken slobs. It was annoying to wake up to and largely consisted of an irate, “Get off me!” from either party, but they never thought of it beyond that. They were just used to cuddling together, after countless sleepovers in their childhood that usually resulted in Charlie’s mom, always Charlie’s, squealing with joy and snapping picture after picture of her little boy and his “little boyfriend!” holding each other in their sleep.

This, of course, was nothing to fawn over. It was just two disgusting, drunk slobs holding onto each other for the night, enjoying how the other smelled and pulling each other closer so one was practically on top of the other (Charlie was so small though, so what did it matter?) and their facial hair was catching, which annoyed Mac. He jerked his had and slurred something about Charlie’s beard fucking off, but then he noticed said beard scratching at his neck, along side very soft and distinctively open lips and maybe even a tongue?

What the fuck.

“Charlie, fuck off.”

Charlie replied incoherently and continued mouthing at his neck. It was times like this when Mac wished he suffered that infamous Whiskey Dick, but he did not (though if he had, it probably would’ve saved him a _lot_ of grief.) As such, his dick was getting a little too interested in the feeling of Charlie’s clumsy mouth suckling at his throat and Mac had to shove his little friend away.

“Knock it off!”

“You taste like caramel, dude...” Charlie rubbed at his eyes, as if his explanation justified _any_ of this gay shit. Mac grunted angrily and finished his beer.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Like, salted caramel. Like that shit Dee drinks.”

That made a little bit of sense.

“Fuck off.”

“Whatever, dude, you’re the one with the boner,” Charlie mumbled as he tucked his face back into the crook of Mac’s neck and shoulder. It was true, the bulge was fairly obvious by this point and did not seem to diminish, even as Mac half-heartedly glared at it.

“My neck’s sensitive, dickwad.”

“S’not my fault.”

Mac glared at the fuzzy head beneath his chin and suddenly rolled them over, pinning the smaller man beneath him and grabbing a handful of hair. Charlie yelled and hit his chest frantically, but Mac did not relent.

“This isn’t _my_ fault either,” he growled before biting Charlie’s throat _hard_. Charlie screamed and Mac could feel it beneath his teeth, which, _fuck_ , was hot as hell. He bit and sucked Charlie’s throat until he could feel Charlie’s boner matching his own and sat back, triumphant and a little woozy from the enthusiastic necking. Charlie had a bright red bite mark in the dead center of his throat, already fading into a dark purple bruise that would last for a few days. Mac admired it distantly as Charlie caught his breath.

“Fuck you,” Charlie finally wheezed, shoving both hands against Mac’s chest and gripping his shirt. Mac had a precious second to raise his eyebrows in alarm before Charlie jerked him downward, latching his teeth into the side of Mac’s neck to return the favor. Mac screamed and tried to pull back, but Charlie only bit harder; how the fuck did Mac forget Charlie’s biting thing? The kid was known for it in school and he’d known him long enough to know _not_ to get into a fight where biting was a legitimate strategy. Mac rolled off but Charlie came with him, straddling his hips and digging his teeth hard enough for Mac’s eyes to water.

He was bleeding.

“CHARLIE, FUCK OFF!!”

He pulled away, mouth red from Mac’s blood, and Mac took the opportunity to sock Charlie straight across the jaw. Charlie fell backward off of him, shrieking and kicking out, which gave Mac a window to lurch for the door and escape this bullshit. Charlie caught his ankle before he could take a proper step and Mac fell straight into the door frame, resulting in a broken nose and an angry stream of swears. From there, the two fell into a messy brawl, punching and biting at each other until Charlie was on top again and scrabbling to get Mac’s hands off his throat, squirming and turning red from lack of air. Mac was shaking, bleeding horribly, and trying his damnedest to make Charlie black out so he could run off to the emergency room and get his neck sewn back together.

If only Charlie hadn’t been squirming over his crotch like that. He was still half-hard from the initial necking (not any of this violent bullshit, he wasn’t _sick_ ) but Charlie’s struggling under Mac’s clenched grip was getting him riled back up.

‘ _Fuck... fuck!_ ’

Mac bucked up suddenly, causing Charlie to choke out a strangled moan and lurch downward against him, pressing their hips tighter together. Mac’s breath hitched, hard, and he stared up at Charlie.

They weren’t seriously...

But then Charlie pulled one of Mac’s hands from his throat and dragged it down, haltingly, to his crotch. Mac cupped him, the other hand still tight on his friend’s throat, and Charlie made that weak, helplessly turned on sound again. He was hard too— _still_ —and Mac could feel his heat through his jeans.

Jesus.

Now Charlie was actively riding him and Mac couldn’t even think to tell him to stop. _God_ , how did he not notice that ass? Mac’s head swam with visions of him actually plowing Charlie into a mattress one day, causing him to buck up harder against him and Charlie was still turning red and losing motor control—he probably needed air or something by now. Mac shakily shifted his hand off Charlie’s throat to his mouth, letting him breathe but keeping control, while his other hand tore at the button and zip of his jeans. Charlie was gasping behind his hand, eyes fluttering shut in relief and pleasure, moaning enthusiastically and high-pitched when Mac’s hand gripped him through his briefs, bucking hard and shuddering. Shit. _Fuck_. Mac bit his own lip when he felt Charlie mouth at his hand, semi-conscious and high on pleasure. And then Charlie was gripping his wrist and pulling his thumb into his mouth and suckling like a little slut. Jesus. _Jesus_.

“Jesus, Charlie,” Mac gasped, rolling his hips up and squeezing Charlie’s dick through his underwear, “Fuck, holy shit...”

Charlie just whimpered, grinding his ass down and laving his tongue over the pad of Mac’s thumb. It conjured horribly vivid visions of his dick in Charlie’s mouth, getting suckled and licked like he couldn’t help himself, and Mac shuddered hard, nearly coming at that imagined sight.

But this was fucking _Charlie_. Charlie who slept in dirty underwear and general filth; Charlie who was deemed Rat King and held his title proudly; Charlie who huffed glue and abused cocaine and alcohol; Charlie who was riding his dick and sucking and licking at his hand, who would do anything for Mac, who—

“Fuck!” Mac convulsed sharply, coming hard in his pants, which hadn’t even been undone this entire time. Charlie was still squirming, actively fellating two of Mac’s fingers—three, _three_ of his fingers—and Mac fumbled awkwardly to finally pull him out of his briefs and give him a good, long stroke. That was when Charlie finally whined, shrill and beautiful, and came all over his own stomach and Mac’s hand.

The two exhaled in a long sigh of relief, slumping downwards with the seductive pull of gravity and the weight of alcohol that had fueled this frenzy. Mac was still bleeding, though it had slowed, and Charlie’s jaw ached terribly. All the same, the smaller slid off to curl against Mac’s side, hiding his face in the unmarred side of his neck. Mac’s arm wrapped automatically about him, hugging his shoulders tight as sleep overcame him. The cold tackiness of his release didn’t register quite yet; that would come in the morning, along with a monstrous headache and permanent scar. For now, he held onto his friend as he drooled into his shirt and slept soundly.

They’d deal with it later.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t like either of them hadn’t fooled around with a close friend before. They’d both had their mistakes and misadventures in high school and soon after, and learned that “Friends With Benefits” doesn’t really work. Either it works but you end up wanting all the other relationship bullshit or it’s awkward and terrible and you end up avoiding the other person entirely.

Neither happened to them.

It was awkward, of course. How could it not be, after waking up like that? Bruised and bloody and coated in sweat and semen, spooning in a decidedly _non-_ platonic way. Mac woke up to the sounds of Dennis opening up the pub for the day and found himself curled behind Charlie, who was still dead asleep, with his hands down the front of the kid’s pants. They were outside his underwear though, so that was good, but he _was_ cupping him... Mac stared at the back of Charlie’s head, horrifically recalling the brawl from a few hours prior and finding, to his despair, that it was making him achingly hard. No time for that, though, Dennis was assuredly on his way to the back office and he needed to separate himself from Charlie _now_.

Mac removed his hands from Charlie’s groin and rolled to stand, suddenly feeling all his aches and injuries from last night weigh down on him. His nose was broken and his neck was throbbing. He’d have to rebreak it and patch himself up some point soon, before either injury became permanent. With a groan and tenderly rubbing his neck, Mac glanced down at Charlie. His jaw was swollen and there were distinctive bruises around his throat, more from the choking than the attempted hickies. Mac snorted and pushed his foot into Charlie’s back.

“Wake up, dude.”

Before Charlie could grunt that he _was_ awake, Dennis opened the door, effectively ruining any kind of mood either of them could be in (besides generally hungover and nauseas.)

“Oh. There you are,” Dennis stood, taking in how fucked up his friends were, “The hell happened.”

“We got into a fight,” Mac croaked, rubbing his eye, “Passed out after.”

“Some fight,” Dennis raised his eyebrows, “You got fucked up, man. Charlie, did you bite him?”

The man on the floor gestured vaguely.

“Well, fair enough. C’mon, up and at ‘em. The rat traps are full to the gills, man. Get to bashing.”

“I gotta piss,” Charlie finally stood, wobbled, and left for the bathrooms. Dennis and Mac remained, staring at each other before Dennis told Mac to follow him, seeing as he had to clean the blood off anyway. 

Great.

It was nothing but tense silence and avoiding gazes between them in the bathroom, even while Mac reset his nose. But with that came immense pain and lots of shouting and even more blood, which shattered any kind of stalemate between them. Charlie handed Mac a wet paper towel. Mac thanked him, staring at the blood splattered sink, and waited for him to leave.

He didn’t leave.

“Want me to suck you off?”

Mac nearly broke his neck with how fast his head whipped ‘round. Charlie stood there, hugging himself, and staring at the ground. His ears were bright red. Mac blinked.

“... Yeah.”

That was how Mac ended up getting a blowjob in the men’s restroom at Paddy’s.

And God _damn_ did that kid know how to give head. Mac had his hands fisted in Charlie’s hair, holding on while it bobbed furiously, licking and sucking and... and...

“Jesus Christ,” Mac exhaled as he came in Charlie’s mouth, hands gripping him tight so he swallowed all of it. Charlie snuffled uncomfortably but ended up dutifully cleaning Mac off with a few long licks; it was almost enough to get Mac going again, but he wasn’t 17 and this was still a horrible idea.

“God damn it, Charlie...” Mac rubbed a hand over his mouth.

“Whatever, dude, you liked it.”

And Charlie, fucking _Charlie_ , was still kneeling in front of him with bruised lips and a placid look. It was probably the calmest Mac had ever seen him and, fuck, it was directed at _him_. Mac tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped up, heading for the door. He stopped short, fists clenched, and ground out, “Do you want me to jerk you off.”

Charlie said yes.

That was how Charlie got a handjob sitting on the toilet in the middle stall of Paddy’s men’s restroom.

And _God_ , Mac knew how to touch him. Charlie rested his head on Mac’s shoulder and let him stroke him however he wanted, and thank God, Mac knew how to deal with a dude. 

‘ _Makes sense_ ,’ Charlie thought as he huffed little moans against Mac’s shoulder, ‘ _He probably jerked the tranny off all the time_.’ Charlie shuddered suddenly and came with a small, muffled whine into Mac’s shoulder and, like that, they were square again.

“I’m sorry for biting you.”

“Shut up dude, since when do you apologize.”

“Since we banged.”

Mac turned head head a little, nose brushing Charlie’s, “We did not bang.”

“Felt like we banged,” Charlie countered, breathing softly against Mac’s mouth. It tasted sweet, like waking up on a Sunday afternoon. Mac pushed just a fraction closer, lips brushing Charlie’s.

“You’re an idiot.”

Charlie’s hand fisted in his shirt.

“Charlie!”

_Frank._

“Yeah!” Charlie bolted upright, face red and eyes bright. Mac stayed crouched near the toilet, where he’d been, and watched Charlie run off to do... whatever.

Mac slammed his head against the toilet roll and followed him out.


	3. Chapter 3

They were _not_ doing the “Friends With Benefits” thing.

“We’re not doing it,” Mac pressed his hands into the bar’s countertop. Charlie nodded, “It’s a horrible idea. We’re not doing it.”

“Right!”

They jerked each other off in the back office almost immediately afterward.

—

They still hadn’t kissed.

“Kissing’s for couples,” Mac reasoned. They were back at his apartment, watching Lethal Weapon 5.

“And it’s gross.”

“How is it gross??”

“It’s all sticky—”

“Shut up.”

Charlie sucked him off before the credits rolled.

—

They kept their kissing below the neck.

“S’better this way,” Mac mumbled as he mouthed Charlie’s throat over the bruises from weeks ago. Charlie hitched his hips up eagerly, huffing whines as Mac’s hand traveled lower, lower, between his legs and Charlie spasmed.

“Are you gonna finger me?” Charlie breathed like he didn’t quite believe it. Mac hadn’t consciously been thinking it but with the two of them tangled together and naked in his bed, it seemed like a great idea.

“A little,” Mac admitted, sucking just below his ear. Charlie moaned and spread his legs invitingly. God, how Mac wanted to be between his freckled thighs, pushing into him... He doubted he’d ever be able to, but the thought was nice enough and fingering him seemed like a close enough get. Wetting his mouth with his tongue, Mac grabbed a bottle of lube he may or may not have bought for this reason exactly and pushed a wet finger inside. Charlie was clinging to him, shaking and making helpless little mewling sounds as Mac fingered him; first one, then two, then three, until Charlie was bucking and trying his damnedest to ride them, so fucking close to the end.

“You like that, baby?” Mac couldn’t help but ask, hushed, against his ear, “You love it, don’t you. C’mon, it’s okay baby, I got you...”

“Shit,” Charlie gasped, head back, coming hard between them and riding out the last of it on Mac’s fingers. Mac kept fingering him through it until Charlie was twisting away, mewling helplessly and obviously overwhelmed by sensation, but god, he was so beautiful like that.

Mac didn’t like that thought.

But then Charlie was worming down the bed and between his legs and _sucking_ and Mac didn’t have to think again for another few minutes.

“God,” Mac exhaled sharply after his own orgasm, while Charlie pulled on his briefs and got under the covers for a nap, “You like doing that or something, because holy shit dude...”

Charlie shrugged, lying on his back.

“I like doing it to you.”

Definitely bad.

Mac shook his head, even as he crawled under the covers and pulled Charlie to spoon against him, hand curled possessively against his chest. Charlie sighed and the room went quiet for a long time.

“This is bad, dude,” Mac eventually said, half-dozing and petting the curve of Charlie’s belly, “This is really bad.”

“Yeah,” Charlie mumbled, clearly more asleep than Mac.

“It’s gay,” Mac shrugged, “Obviously. But it’s getting too gay.”

“Whatever, dude,” Charlie grunted, clearly disinterested with the conversation. Mac was silent for a long time, fingernails absently grazing over the line of Charlie’s hip.

“I never thought I was gay.”

“You’re gay, dude.”

Mac pulled his mouth to the side.

“You’re at least bisexual.”

“Bisexuals are just sluts, Charlie, they don’t actually exist.”

“Then you’re a slut, dude.”

Mac considered this.

“Whatever,” he finally grunted and bit Charlie’s shoulder. The smaller man yelped sharply and tried to roll away, but Mac held him there, gnawing on him until Charlie dug his nails into his arm and yelled for him to fuck off. They dissolved into laughter, somehow, and Charlie rolled over and then there was this _look_ and Mac stopped laughing altogether.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Charlie repeated, nose brushing his, and Mac felt overwhelming terror and longing almost simultaneously _and wasn’t that so fucking gay_.

“God damn it, Charlie,” he muttered, tilting his head down, lips grazing.

There was a knock at his door.

“Shit—!” Mac lurched up and shoved a pillow over Charlie’s face (who squawked) a split second before Dennis opened his door cautiously.

“Dude.”

“Dude!” Mac practically shrieked, “What do you want?!”

“I want _you_ and whatever you dragged into bed to keep it down,” Dennis curled his lip, “I’m trying to watch the Pats and you’re fucking up a storm in here.”

Mac stared at him for a moment before glancing to the lump beside him. Charlie had somehow managed to remain silent and still.

“So... you heard all of that.”

“The screaming,” Dennis rolled his eyes.

“... Right.”

“Just keep it down.”

The door slammed shut and Charlie exploded with laughter, kicking and squirming off the bed. Mac raised an eyebrow to the nonsense and glanced nervously to the door.

“Shut up!”

“Oh my God!” Charlie squealed, “Oh my God dude that was so close!!”

“And he’ll fucking come back if you don’t shut up!” Mac hissed, smacking the smaller man in the face.

“No! No, man, we almost kissed!” he was still laughing as he climbed back into the bed and on top of Mac, who protested in a vaguely flustered sort of way, even as Charlie pushed his shoulders to the bed and grinned.

“We almost fucking kissed,” Charlie giggled again and Mac was met with that familiar terror again. Charlie kept snickering, even as he leaned down and mimicked that moment once more, lips lightly touching and Mac’s entire body tense beneath him.

“That would’ve been so gay.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Dee, we gotta talk.”

Mac pulled the supposed waitress to the back office by her wrist, paying no heed to how she squawked and struggled behind him. He needed her advice, stupid as it was, and he didn’t care if he had to water board her to get it. But that would involve Frank so he settled for locking the back office door for now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I have a _huge_ problem and Frank and Dennis can _not_ find out.”

“Then ask Charlie; I don’t have time for this,” Dee shoved past him and made for the door, but Mac shoved himself between her and certain escape.

“No! I need _your_ help.”

“Jesus Christ, what is it.”

There were a lot of ways he could have broached the subject. There were a lot of people he could have confided in that would’ve been better choices. But for whatever reason, he’d grabbed Dee and he was going to spill his guts to someone he barely had any opinion on, yet knew like a sister.

She laughed at him almost immediately.

“Come on, Dee, this is serious!”

“Y-You’re banging Charlie?!” she wheezed between shrieking laughter, “Why?!”

“Shut up Dee, you banged a retard!”

She waved a hand as she caught her breath, clearly not as affected by the slight as she should have been. Mac huffed and ran a hand through his hair, waiting out the mockery.

“Okay, okay, I’m good,” she finally sighed but her grin persisted. Mac wrinkled his nose.

“Really?”

“Really. Now, what is the problem, other than the fact you’re banging someone who showers less than once a week.”

“We’re working on that. But, uh. It... It’s getting out of hand.”

Mac shifted his weight from foot to foot before gritting his teeth and forcing it out, “We almost kissed.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dee waved her hand again, “You two have been banging each other for a month and you never _kissed_?”

“No!” Mac shouted shrilly, “It’s way too gay!”

“You’re sucking each other’s dicks!”

“I never sucked his dick!”

“Well that’s just rude.”

Mac wanted to punch a wall at that moment but instead honed it into constructive energy. After a deep breath, he met Dee’s eye line and continued, as calmly as he could, “I don’t want to do gay shit like kissing. I just want to fuck him.”

“Then tell him, you dick,” Dee rolled her eyes, “And give him a courtesy blowjob or something. I have a feeling no one’s ever done that before.”

She left and Mac had no idea what to do.

–

It was Thursday. Shower Day. Mac had coerced Charlie up to bathing three days a week and, as they agreed, Thursday was one of those days. Mac sat on the closed toilet lid opposite the shower, flipping through a magazine, while Charlie stood beneath the spray, eyeing Mac’s body wash.

“Why do you have to be in here again?”

“Because I can’t trust you to actually shower properly by yourself. Use the sponge, dude, it’s easier.”

Mac glanced up, watching the blurred figure behind the curtain snatch the shower sponge from its caddy and lather it up; what little he could see of Charlie’s face through the clear, “window” part of the curtain was furrowed in concentration. It was unbelievably cute.

“Don’t forget to wash your feet,” Mac grunted, sitting back. The only response he received was the sound of rough scrubbing and Charlie’s endeavored grunts.

“Done,” he finally said.

“Shampoo.”

Charlie huffed but nonetheless obeyed. Mac had abandoned the magazine in favor of openly watching the shadowed figure of his friend and apparent fuck-buddy. Dee’s advice rang in his mind while he imagined what Charlie must look like, skin irritated bright red from the harsh scrubbing and water sluicing down his chest, belly, thighs... Mac popped the knuckles of one hand before standing and shucking off his shirt and pants. He caught Charlie’s eye in the curtain’s window.

Mac pushed off his briefs, his eyes locked with Charlie’s, before climbing in behind him. Charlie turned, careful not to slip in the shallow puddle at his feet, and looked at Mac. The taller man stepped forward a bit, hair catching under the spray and raising goosebumps from the heat, but Mac did not break eye contact with Charlie. He grabbed him and pulled him close, hand on the back of his neck, and leaned in. He could feel Charlie tensing with anticipation as he slowly nudged closer and closer, mouths nearly touching, and fuck, _fuck_ , Mac was almost shaking now. But at the last second, he lost his nerve and diverted to kiss Charlie’s neck.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Mac gripped Charlie’s back while he wrapped his arms over the taller’s shoulders, ‘ _Fuck!_ ’

This was bad. 

Mac kissed Charlie’s neck. 

This was so _bad_. 

He gripped his ass and Charlie huffed a whine, pushing closer and brushing his half-hard dick against Mac’s thigh. Mac gnawed the base of his neck until Charlie was squirming but all Mac could hear was the rushing water past his head while his heart pounded in his ears. 

He’d almost kissed Charlie. He’d almost done the number one gayest and most serious thing he could think of and he nearly did it with _Charlie_. Fuck, he was so fucked up, everything was so fucked up and he had his hand on Charlie’s dick and his mouth on his throat and _fuck_ , he loved those sounds. Those helpless sounds that were so quiet that Charlie had to press his mouth to his ear for Mac to hear him. He felt powerful when Charlie made those sounds. He felt sure and confident like he rarely felt before.

And really, Dee was right. Not about the other stuff, or most stuff, but about being fair to Charlie. He deserved something. And while Mac was always going to turn to chicken shit when shit got real, he could at least pay his buddy back for his countless blowies.

Mac shifted down to his knees with little warning, got a good grip on Charlie’s hips, and licked up the length of his cock. Charlie, above, keened and grabbed onto his shoulders for support while Mac went about an awkward but enthusiastic blowjob.

“Shit, dude,” Charlie gasped, hunching over as Mac took him fully into his mouth, “Oh God, fuck...”

It was at this point Mac desperately wished he’d saw this coming and brought lube into the shower with him so he could finger Charlie at the same time, but alas, not all is so fortuitous. Still, he inched a finger to the crease of Charlie’s ass and rubbed at his hole, which earned him an loud moan and the distinct taste of precum in his mouth. Mac kept sucking past the bitter taste while teasing Charlie’s entrance, but God, did he wish he had lube. He’d read somewhere, while doing research enough to know Lube Is A Must, that lubricant does not, in fact, come in many forms and that substitutes like spit or, pertinently, _soap_ were a no-go. Still. It was frustrating.

“D-dude, I’m gonna come,” Charlie gasped, digging his nails into Mac’s shoulders. Good enough, Mac supposed, and pulled back to lick over the head of Charlie’s dick. That was just enough to set him off and Charlie came with a convulsion and a shrill cry. Thankfully, the little asshole did not shoot into his eyes but his beard was definitely streaked with the load. Mac ran the back of his hand over his mouth before standing. Charlie was stumbling backwards and about to crack his head on the wall of the shower.

“W-whoa, whoa there, I gotchya,” Mac swooped to catch him, his legs turned to jelly, and held him tight while his little buddy recovered, “C’mon man, quit flattering me.”

“Jesus, Mac,” Charlie exhaled quietly into his chest, hands nervously flitting over his shoulders and arms, “That was so good, dude...”

Mac grinned into his hair and amazingly didn’t care that he was still hard as a rock. Charlie’s satisfaction was somehow pleasurable in its own way and Mac decided that he’d accept the happiness as it was; leave the introspection for later.

“C’mon, let’s get you toweled off,” he turned off the shower and guided Charlie out, wrapping him in a towel and scrubbing him out like Poppins after a bath. Charlie did the same shaking thing Mac’s old dog did, fluffy hair and all (and strangely enough, the biting as well.) From there, they snuck through the living room before Dennis could see them and back to Mac’s bed, lying naked and slightly damp on top of his covers while Mac fumbled to turn on his tv. As soon as he had completed this, Charlie pulled him down and on top of him in a distinctively _unplatonic_ way. Mac nervously grinned and ducked his face into Charlie’s neck to hide his flustered blush.

“Relax, man,” Charlie said quietly, “I’m not gonna kiss you or anything.”

Mortification settled over Mac like a thick, wool blanket.


	5. Chapter 5

“Where’ve you been lately,” Dennis was asking as they walked to the bar to open up. Mac wasn’t listening, “I mean, fucking your fuck buddy, I get that. But you missed movie night because of her.”

“Who?”

“Your fuck buddy!”

“Oh, right. Yeah,” Mac rubbed the back of his head awkwardly while Dennis fumbled with the keys, “I dunno man, we’re just kind of wrapped up in each other...”

“You’re not getting serious with her, are you?”

Mac could only shrug.

“Man, what about the pact!”

“You married Maureen Ponderosa, dude. You broke the pact.”

Dennis glared before heading inside. Mac followed, though clearly lost in thought about that “girl” Dennis was clearly jealous of, in his own, narcissistic way.

“We gotta hang again man,” Dennis continued, flipping on the lights, “Tonight. Living room. Transporter 2.”

“I still haven’t seen the first one,” Mac curled his lip in annoyance, “But, uh, I can’t.”

“What?!”

“I have... a thing.”

“With that girl?!”

Mac winced, which was more than enough for Dennis. He swore and kicked the bar in a typically Mac-like tantrum, which was damn embarrassing to be on the other side of, Mac found. When Dennis had calmed, he ran a hand through his perfectly unperfect hair and sighed.

“Look, man, I’m happy you’re finally getting laid regularly, but it’s seriously cutting into your Dennis Time.”

“What do you want from me, man.”

“I want to hang out! And maybe meet—”

“You’re not meeting her.”

“I’m not gonna _bang her_ , dude.”

Mac narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “I didn’t say you were.”

Just then, Dee, Frank, and Charlie entered the bar, and Dennis and Mac’s conversation was put on hold for now. Good thing too, since Mac was about to lose his mind thinking about how weirdly (yet unweirdly) jealous Dennis was of this supposed girl who was dragging him away. On cue, as he thought this, Charlie passed and they slapped high-five. It was the gayest thing they’d permit themselves in public, though Mac desperately wanted to kiss Charlie hello. It was super gay, even if Charlie’d been a girl, but it was all Mac wanted whenever he saw him in the mornings, always looking sleepy and wearing that ratty hoodie no matter how disgustingly hot it was outside. God damn that kid for being so cute, really. Mac twisted his mouth to the side.

“How come I don’t get a high five,” Dennis immediately brought up, eyes wide and sad like a puppy. A big, sociopathic, narcissistic puppy. Charlie glanced at him as he cracked open a beer for himself and Mac. And, as an after-thought, Dennis and Dee.

“I dunno, dude.”

“Mac got a high five.”

“Yeah—”

“I want a high five!!”

“Jesus, Dennis, could you be more of a twelve year old?” Dee sneered into the mouth of her beer bottle. Dennis continued to whine until Charlie stuck up his palm and Dennis half-heartedly received that coveted high five. It was okay at best.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and turned back to Mac.

From there the topic dispersed into various side-conversations and, as always, nothing much was accomplished in the bar. It was just like every day, though Mac couldn’t seem to keep his paws off Charlie for more than ten minutes. He wasn’t doing anything overt, like holding his hand or putting his arm around him, but he was definitely touching his lower back more than usual and sitting pointedly closer to Charlie than he had before. 

What the fuck was that about?


	6. Chapter 6

Saturday nights had become their secret nights. Dennis was almost always out of the apartment, either at a club or on a “date” and was guaranteed to be gone between 11 and sunrise. So they made it a habit of ordering food, guzzling a couple beers, and getting their gayness out when it otherwise had to be pinned down around their usual company. 

Mac liked the nights more than he’d admit. He loved having Charlie tucked up against him and have him either slurring nonsense or mouthing at his neck (occasionally, kissing his biceps, which almost immediately granted Mac a huge boner.) He loved snarking at dumb action movies and giving Charlie little neck massages because the kid nearly killed himself working in the bar and his back was a fucking mess. He loved shoving his hands into Charlie’s boxers and squeezing his thighs and making him squirm. 

He loved a lot of things, but mostly, he just loved having Charlie alone.

This sparked something in his mind. There was something he’d rather like to do with Charlie and, well, tonight was as good as any other night. So he spent his alone time before Charlie arrived mentally preparing himself for this Very Big Step, shaking out his nerves and giving himself several pep talks in the mirror.

He could do this.

The door knocked and Mac had to resist racing to it, he was so keyed up. When he opened it, Charlie was standing there with an extra large pizza and a huge case of beers; enough to get properly wasted on. More importantly, though, was the big grin he was wearing that nearly made Mac lose his nerve entirely. How could one man be so devastatingly cute?

“Hey man.”

“Hey,” he stepped aside and let Charlie in, “So... I was thinking.”

“Mhm?” Charlie set the food and beer down on the table before taking a can for himself. He tossed one to Mac, which exploded a bit when he opened it.

“I wanna have sex with you.”

“Okay,” Charlie sipped his beer and nodded, “Can we eat first though, because I’m starving.”

“No, Charlie, I meant... like... my-dick-in-your-ass kind of sex.”

That made Charlie pause for a moment, confused expression evident in his face. Mac shifted uncomfortably, feeling embarrassment wash over him.

“Why?”

“... What do you mean “why,” I wanna have sex with you dude.”

“No, like,” Charlie set his drink down, “Why would it be _your_ dick in _my_ ass?”

Mac narrowed his eyes, “Because that’s how gay sex works!”

Charlie grinned, “What the hell makes you think you’d top?”

“Fuck you, Charlie!”

“Mac, you’re like the whiniest bottom bitch I’ve ever seen.”

“Says the guy who _loves_ getting fingered!”

“Hey, that shit’s awesome.”

“Whatever, forget I said anything.”

“Hey,” Charlie pouted slightly and Mac forgot entirely about being irate with the little guy. God, how could one person be so cute? “C’mon man, I do want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d love to pound your ass into the mattress!”

“You fucking—!” Mac threw his open can of beer at the wall before attacking Charlie, the two crashing to the ground heavily. The can exploded against the wall, soaking part of Dennis’ stereo system.

“Mac! Fuck!” Charlie screamed, shoving and biting at the larger man as they rolled and slammed into the couch, the coffee table, the tv stand, etc. Mac refused to let up and Charlie refused to back down until, finally, he was pinned, face-down on the floor with the entirety of Mac’s weight upon him. He snuffled and turned his head against the floor, wincing at the pain in his back and neck.

“How could you top when you can’t even throw me off, dude,” Mac grinned, panting against the back of Charlie’s neck.

“Fine, whatever, you can top. Get off me.”

Mac ignored him for a moment more, nipping lightly at his neck and grinding slowly against his ass, which was pressed directly against his groin in their current position. Charlie huffed a small sigh, closing his eyes and letting Mac do as he pleased. He couldn’t deny it felt good and that, maybe, just maybe, he’d imagined Mac inside of him when he would finger him. Picturing it now and anticipating their further activities of the night, Charlie started to get hard.

“Dude,” he whimpered quietly, lifting his hips away from the hard, unforgiving floor as his erection started to get needy, “C’mon, fuck me...”

“Okay,” Mac sucked a kiss into the side of his neck, grinding hard a time or two more before rolling off him and pulling Charlie to a stand. He was a bit unsteady, leaning against Mac as his legs steadied with the help of Mac’s wandering hands gripping his ass. Charlie smacked his chest before grabbing the beer and pizza and going into Mac’s bedroom. Mac was close behind, following like a proud and eager puppy, and crowded him as soon as they closed the door.

“Hey,” he grinned, ducking his head slightly to nose at Charlie’s cheek. Charlie snorted and pushed at him before his hands drifted to Mac’s jeans. One dipped slightly lower, cupping the bulge there while Mac huffed a small moan.

“You’re pretty into this, huh,” Charlie muttered, rubbing at him. Mac nodded, head dropping to watch Charlie palm him, hands flitting nervously at the smaller man’s shoulders. Charlie kept at it, squeezing him teasingly until Mac was gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to thrust against his hand.

“C’mon, Charlie, don’t be a dick.”

“Want me to suck you off?”

Mac grunted, a bit annoyed, “Yeah. I’m still gonna fuck you though so don’t get too far.”

“S’up to you, dude,” Charlie grinned, sinking to his knees and opening up Mac’s pants. Mac wasn’t wearing anything underneath, “You were planning this, weren’t you.”

“It’s fucking Saturday, asshole. Yes, I was planning to bang you.”

“Whatever,” Charlie gripped and licked at him, which quickly shut Mac up. He was too keyed up to properly enjoy it without almost blowing his load, however, and had to tug Charlie back up before too long.

“Bed, now.”

“Alright, alright...” Charlie shucked his shirt and jeans and jumped onto the bed while Mac pushed his pants the rest of the way down and pulled off his shirt. Charlie grabbed the lube from the side table and tossed it at Mac, which hit him right in the face.

“You little shit,” Mac wiped at the sticky smear across his cheek before pouncing on Charlie, who was laughing and wiggling on the bed like a spazz. It didn’t last long before Mac was palming him through his briefs and touching him in all the places that made Charlie go quiet and breathless, just like Mac liked him. He briefly kissed his neck before tugging Charlie’s underwear down to his knees; just far enough to get his fingers between his thighs, already slick with lube. From there, it was quiet, save for Charlie’s little gasps and moans and choking swallows while Mac slowly stretched him open.

“Now, now,” Charlie panted against Mac’s neck, digging his fingers into his shoulders. He had two of his fingers deep inside him and he felt like he might come at any second, especially with the way Mac was rubbing against that spot that always felt so good.

“Not yet,” Mac grunted, awkwardly fumbling to push a third finger inside him, “Gotta stretch you more.”

“I’m gonna come, dude!” Charlie gasped desperately, bucking up against his leg, “Mac, Mac...!”

“You’re not gonna come.”

“Yes I am!”

Mac grunted again and bit his neck in warning, which turned Charlie right off, “Ow!”

“I have to stretch you so it doesn’t hurt.”

Charlie huffed and looked away, trying to wait out the stretching and hoping he wouldn’t almost come again.

Eventually, Mac finished preparing him to the point all the online guides had instructed and he rose to his knees between Charlie’s thighs. There was a moment, while he was slicking up his cock, where they met eyes and Mac almost lost his nerve. Charlie could see this, evidently, and looped his arms around his neck, drawing their foreheads together intimately. Mac calmed and exhaled slowly before lining up and pushing carefully inside. Then it was all heat and tightness and neither one could breathe until Mac was fully inside and Charlie tried to adjust.

“Breathe, Charlie.”

He gasped deeply, not realizing he’d been holding his breath, and shook, “God damn! God damn it, dude, you’re huge.”

“Hah,” Mac ducked his face into Charlie’s neck, “Don’t say that, man, it makes me wanna fuck you.”

“Just hold up.”

“I know, I know.”

A moment passed before Charlie gave Mac the go ahead but Mac kept his pace slow all the same, despite the assurances from Charlie that he would be fine. It was grating to keep himself so restrained when the heat and tightness begged him to thrust hard and deep but he resisted. Mac planted little kisses along Charlie’s neck and collarbone until the man urged him to take him with needy noises and squirming hips.

“I’m going crazy,” Charlie shook the sweat from his brow and eyes, “C’mon, Mac, give me something.”

“What’s it feel like?” Mac asked instead, mouthing at his ear. Charlie swallowed, sweaty palms pushing at Mac’s pecs, his shoulders, and then wrapping his arms around his back.

“I feel full.”

“Oh yeah?” Mac grinned and pushed in as deep as he could, flexing his hips against Charlie’s ass. Charlie grunted breathlessly.

“Yeah. Like... it kind of feels like I have to shit, but that feeling’s going away.”

Mac snorted, laughing into his neck.

“It feels,” Charlie continued, tilting his head back and blinking at the ceiling, “It... It’s like a massage but with the sex feeling. And you keep brushing that spot every now and then...”

“Lemme see if I can get it again,” Mac grunted and changed his stance, lifting his and Charlie’s hips up to a slightly different angle before continuing his rhythm. Charlie was at an odd angle, chin to his chest and hips practically in Mac’s lap, and Mac’s thighs were starting to burn. Still, he rolled his hips and watched Charlie for a sign he’d done something right. When that didn’t work, he settled them back on the bed and gave way to his former rhythm.

“Sorry.”

“S’oka—AY!” Charlie suddenly jolted on Mac’s next thrust inward, clawing at his back and locking his ankles around his waist, “There, there-!”

Mac grinned.

It wasn’t a perfect rhythm but it seemed to be working for Charlie. The kid was practically sobbing and trying his damnedest to bounce on Mac’s dick despite the disadvantage the position put him in. Mac held him tight and concentrated on making sure each thrust would drive him wild while trying to ignore his own need to climax. It was building fast on him though and the more Charlie begged for Mac to fuck him, the more serious his own need became.

“I’m gonna come,” Charlie sobbed, writhing beneath him, “M-Mac, Mac, I’m gonna...!”

“I got you baby,” Mac gasped, shaking the bed with his hard and fast thrusts that were poorly aimed but powerful enough to drive Charlie to cry out, “C’mon baby, come for me.”

Charlie clung tighter and bucked his cock into Mac’s belly, searching desperately for friction to push him over the edge. It wasn’t enough. Charlie pulled Mac’s hair and whined.

“Fuck, I... I...!” he shook his head deliriously, sweat burning his eyes. Mac swallowed and licked at his neck before nipping it and drawing an anguished sound from his partner.

“I’m so close,” Charlie panted, though he had felt this way for the past... twenty? Thirty minutes? It was hard to know. Mac grunted and awkwardly palmed his cock between them.

“Come on, babe, just let go,” his thighs ached and his arms were shaking but Mac wouldn’t stop. Charlie practically sobbed and bucked into his hand, wetting it with precome.

“I-I can’t,” he gasped, horrified, “Fuck, Mac, I can’t come-!”

“Yes you can, Charlie, come on!”

Charlie kicked and squirmed but to no avail. He was on the precipice with no way to fall. Instead he shouted and writhed and grabbed clumsily at Mac, desperately trying to find something that would push him over that edge. Mac’s thrusts were increasing in speed and force, slamming both into Charlie and the headboard into the wall, creating a horrendous cacophony of squealing bed springs and wood meeting plaster. Everything was starting to blur together and burn bright, blending Charlie’s helpless cries into the aged whine of the metal springs until Mac silenced everything by shoving his mouth to Charlie’s. All it took was a slip of their tongues against each other before Charlie came between them, convulsing sharply and whining high and beautiful into Mac’s mouth. He swallowed it up and thrusted deep, digging his nails into the bedsheets as he spilled inside of Charlie.

Finally, when it was over and they were both shaking and sensitive, Mac found himself lazily kissing Charlie as they drifted to sleep, sweaty and clinging to each other.

‘ _Why did it take so long to do this?_ ’


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie woke up a couple hours later, roused by his growling stomach. Mac remained fast asleep beside him while Charlie polished off half the pizza and a good handful of beers, watching shitty movies on Mac’s stolen cable. For another hour or so, Mac drifted in and out of sleep until he finally woke up for good around 2 am. Charlie was perched in front of him, still naked and chewing absently on a pizza crust.

“Hey,” Mac yawned and rubbed at Charlie’s lower back.

“There’s like half of the pizza left,” he burped in reply, “I kind of want Chinese now though. Or Vietnamese. Do you think Mr. Kim’s delivers?”

“Why, you wanna get your ex-fiancée back here?” Mac mumbled with a grin. Charlie snorted.

“Shut up.”

Mac eventually sat up and threw his arm around the smaller man’s waist, head leaning against his. Charlie pushed the pizza box to the side and burped again. Mac shook his head, nauseated by the smell.

“Jesus.”

“I drank like five beers.”

“Well let me catch up.”

They did end up ordering Chinese food after Charlie’s insistence (Kim’s didn’t do delivery and neither of them were very familiar with Vietnamese cuisine.) Charlie took his place in Mac’s lap, leaning back against them while they ate and drank their respective foods and beers, watching shitty movies until the sun came up. Mac was in the midst of petting Charlie’s stomach and inching closer to his groin when they both heard the front door unlock and open.

“Dennis’s home,” Mac mumbled and continued his not-so-subtle groping. Charlie didn’t respond, “What’s up with you, you’re quiet.”

“I’m drunk.”

“You’re not quiet when you’re drunk.”

Charlie shrugged and tilted his head back against Mac’s shoulder, “My ass hurts.”

Mac couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him, “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You should kiss it better.”

“I’m not kissing your ass.”

“Why not, lots of gay guys do that,” Charlie grinned, “Since you love my butt so much.”

“Fuck you, Charlie,” Mac laughed and dug his fingers into his stomach. Charlie yelped and tried to squirm away, but he was trapped by Mac’s legs and arms and forced to endure the tickling. He kicked and screamed laughing but Mac refused to let him go until he was crying and begging him to stop between bouts of laughter.

“You surrender?”

“Y-Es!!” Charlie wailed.

“You admit you’re a huge faggot?”

“Ye-Es!!”

“Say it!”

“I’mma,” Charlie gasped between uncontrollable laughter, “I’m a huge f-a-ggot!!”

“I knew it,” Mac grinned and hugged him tight, kissing just below his neck while Charlie rubbed his eyes and giggled.

“You’re the faggot, faggot.”

Mac kissed him in lieu of response. Charlie didn’t protest.

The two started to tumble to the side, ready to fool around again, when the door to Mac’s room suddenly opened. It was Dennis, high on E and drunk out of his skull, giving the two of them an exhausted and extremely annoyed glare. Mac and Charlie froze, though Charlie instinctively clasped both hands over his cock. It registered with Mac then that they were both completely naked and the scene wasn’t exactly open to interpretation. If luck was on their sides, however, Dennis wouldn’t remember it. Hopefully.

“You two,” he slurred, pointing, “You two’re fucking!”

Mac winced.

“Yeah! Yeah, you’re fucking! S’why you’ve been hiding from me,” Dennis hiccuped and stumbled into the room, catching himself on the edge of the bed, “Why’ve you started fucking?? No offense Charlie, you’re gross.”

“I’ve been taking showers,” Charlie scrunched his face up, unsure of how much he should engage. Mac was still wrapped around him.

“Is that why?” Dennis tilted his head oddly, “I noticed that. You don’t smell like shit now.”

“... Thanks.”

“Mm.”

They sat on the bed for a long time before suddenly Dennis slipped off the end, completely unconscious. Mac and Charlie waited for long minutes until they heard his snoring. That’s when Mac started laughing hysterically.

“Shut up!”

Mac couldn’t. He laughed until his sides hurt, clinging to Charlie and tumbling them both to the side, laughing into his neck and kissing him as the giggles died down.

“Oh man that was so close,” he giggled between kisses.

“He totally knows, dude,” Charlie grinned and twisted in his arms so he could properly kiss back.

“Yeah,” Mac shook his head, “And I don’t care anymore.”

“You’re awesome, dude,” Charlie said quietly, kissing him and cupping his face. Mac agreed.

“You’re awesome,” he whispered against his lips, “And I’m glad I kissed you.”

“Gay,” Charlie grinned.

The two fell asleep as the sun rose high over Philadelphia, golden light softly filtering in through Mac’s curtained windows. Dennis continued to sleep off the drugs for some time, but Mac and Charlie found they were in no hurry to make their escape. Instead, the lazily continued their kissing and touching in between sporadic naps, gasps and shifting cloth punctuated by the soundtrack of the television and the uneven snores from Dennis.

Ironically, he woke up to the sounds of Charlie’s muted whimpers as Mac went down on him for the third time that morning. Charlie and the conspicuously moving lump beneath the quilt froze as Dennis popped his head up from the end of the bed, squinting.

“... Hey Charlie,” Dennis grunted, rubbing at one eye, “Time is it?”

“... Like, uh, noon?” Charlie choked. Mac licked at the head of his cock teasingly. Charlie’s knuckles turned white against the quilt.

Dennis groaned and rubbed his face, wobbling to a stand, before looking at Charlie again. His eyebrows were knitted in confusion but the squint in his eyes was more from the blinding hangover than anger or suspicion.

“You... where’s Mac?”

“Bathroom,” Charlie blurted. Beneath the quilt, Mac was doing everything with his mouth he possibly could while remaining almost entirely motionless. Charlie wanted to cry.

“You’re... naked?”

“What no,” Charlie laughed awkwardly, “I’ve got my sleep pants on.”

“Right.”

Satisfied in the answers presented, Dennis stumbled out of the room, presumably to crash in his own after taking an aspirin or fifty. When he was out of sight (though door still ajar), Charlie grabbed Mac’s hair with both hands and thrust into his mouth hard enough to make Mac gag. He growled something about Mac being a jackass while he fucked his mouth until he came, sharply, with a long shiver. Mac appeared from beneath the covers, mouth bruised and streaked with cum and tears. But instead of yelling, like Charlie expected, he kissed him and pressed his cock against his hip.

“Fuck,” Mac whimpered into his mouth, rutting against his leg, and mumbling something that sounded like...

“Daddy?” Charlie whispered. Shame burned hot in Mac’s cheeks, but before he could justify or excuse the slip, Dennis wandered back in, very cross.

“Mac wasn’t in the bathroom,” this much was apparent. He pointed to Mac.

“Uh...”

“... Oh my God!” Dennis flapped his hands suddenly, remembering the night previous, “Oh, oh my God, you guys are banging!!”

“Yes, Jesus,” Mac sat up and quickly bunched the quilt about his lap to conceal his quelling boner, “Fine, okay. You know now. We’re banging.”

“ _Why_ are you banging??”

They didn’t understand the question.

“Because... we wanted to?” Charlie ventured, scratching his chest.

“Why?!” Dennis didn’t comprehend, but it was unlikely he ever would. Mac shrugged and rolled his neck to pop it.

“Dunno, it just kind of happened at first...”

“Well,” Dennis sputtered, flailing to get a hold of the situation, “Well. Well.”

“Well,” Charlie repeated.

“At least I’m... at least you came out to me first,” Dennis nodded with an uneasy chuckle and grin. Mac’s mouth twitched, immediately alerting his roommate, “ _Right_ , Mac?”

“... Dee... may have known for a while.”

“What??” Both Dennis and Charlie exclaimed.

“It’s not a big deal, Jesus Christ,” Mac curled his lip, “I just needed advice and I asked her—”

“YOU DIDN’T ASK ME?!” Dennis practically shrieked, rapidly losing his carefully cultivated composure and regressing back to the petulant eight year old he truly was. 

The situation was not easily resolved, especially with Charlie and Mac confined to the bed for modesty’s sake, but eventually Dennis was calmed and all three had lunch/dinner together before heading to the bar. It was for the first time then that the two could hold hands as they walked together and the relief was immense. Even Dennis noticed it.

“As gross as you both are,” He said while opening the door to Paddy’s, “You’re kind of cute put together.”

“We know,” Charlie stuck his nose up and the three went inside to start their late, late work day.


	8. Chapter 8

“The boys are back in town,” Dee noted from behind the counter. She’d been there since noon, the regular opening time, “Where the hell have you boners been?”

“As I’m sure you know, _Deandra_ , these two have been banging each other!”

“Yeah, for like two months,” she looked to them to confirm. Mac shrugged.

“Almost three.”

“Mazel tov.”

“You’re missing the point, _Deandra_!”

“You’re mad,” Dee observed, sipping her beer.

“Of course I’m mad! Mac— _my best friend_ —told you he was banging _Charlie_ before he told me!”

“Maybe it’s because he knew you’d flip out.”

“I WOULD NOT,” Dennis shrieked, shaking and going red in the face. Mac and Charlie, meanwhile, were straightening up the other end of the bar, “I would handle it with the utmost maturity and understanding!”

Dee raised her eyebrow, “And did you?”

Dennis paused, looking away and straightening his shirt, before continuing in a very calm, quiet, and restrained voice, “I _may_... have yelled.”

“Uh huh. Well, you know now so I don’t know why you’re so pissy.”

“The point is,” Dennis took a seat at the bar, leaning his weight onto his elbows while shooting looks to the other end of the bar. Mac was talking to Charlie about something and while their usual dynamic was in play, something was different. Charlie was leaning closer. Mac spoke slower. Dennis wrinkled his nose, “They didn’t tell _me_ first.”

“Jesus, Dennis, it’s not about you.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Dee returned to her job in lieu of dealing with her brother. Frank entered then and, surprisingly, picked up on the social shift almost immediately. Then came the questions, accusations, threats of violence, and Charlie nearly biting someone. Afterwards, it was fairly docile, though the questions continued.

“You fags in love?” Frank looked pointedly at Charlie over the top of his thick glasses. Charlie looked away, pressing a palm to his heated cheek.

“Who’s on top?” Dee asked with a snarky grin. Mac puffed his chest.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

The three inquisitors shared a look before announcing, “Charlie.”

Mac yelled and tried to flip the table, but it was bolted down and he’d forgotten. The others laughed, including Charlie, while Mac threw his tantrum, “I’m not a bottom! I’m a big fucking top! I owned Charlie’s ass for an hour last night!”

“Oh sure you did,” Frank snorted over the uncontrollable laughter of the gang.

“I did!” Mac screamed, stomping, “I won! I was on top! Charlie got an ass full of dick!”

“What?”

A fifth voice broke through the cacophony of the gang from across the bar, though Charlie especially took notice. It was the Waitress, hugging her arm. Mac immediately glanced to Charlie, anxiety hot in his belly as bile flooded it.

“Oh,” Charlie’s voice was small, “Hey.”

“What did Mac say?” She stepped forward, wary like a fawn approaching outside campers. Charlie remained in his barstool, mouth tight.

“Nothing.”

Mac’s eyes never left Charlie.

“Where have you been, Charlie?”

“Busy,” his teeth ground, “You miss me?”

Mac could taste bile.

“It’s weird not having a shadow,” The Waitress kept her distance from the perimeter of the gang, “Don’t tell me you got another girlfriend.”

There was a long pause before Charlie sat up straighter, chin up, and grabbed Mac’s hand.

“I have a boyfriend.”

The Waitress’ reaction could not have been more confusing. She laughed sharply with an unattractive snort, stumbled around an apology, and eventually broke down into hysterics. She reached for Dennis in her blubbering, only to be shoved away, and from there she bolted out of the pub. The gang had been silent throughout her meltdown but once she was gone, they all began chattering and questioning Charlie. Mac, however, remained quiet and bright red, holding Charlie’s hand under the table.

_Boyfriend_.

—

After being officially “out” for a week or so (which was a particularly interesting conversation with their parents, especially Mac’s dad, who seemed to not give a shit about who his son was banging) Charlie and Mac finally had a very serious conversation.

Charlie was going to move in.

Dennis and Frank weren’t entirely on board with the decision, for various reasons, but for various other reasons relented under the pleading, puppy dog looks. However, they voiced their objections all throughout. Especially Frank, as he refused to help Charlie pack up any of his stuff from their tiny, smelly apartment.

That was one of the points of Charlie’s move. As he’d spent more and more time with Mac and less in what was rightfully his home, he had lost his tolerance for many of the things he’d once valued about his place. Namely, the smell. Mac’s apartment smelt clean, like cologne and high status living (thanks to Dennis, mostly.) Charlie’s apartment smelled like piss and cat food and cheese and more than once, Charlie had to run to the window to vomit and get a clear breath of air. Because of this, he spent less and less time there, and almost no nights with Frank on the futon. It didn’t feel right to share a bed with anyone other than Mac, so Charlie’s routine had become to return for few minutes every couple of days to get more underwear or another shirt, then quickly disappear before he felt the overwhelming urge to vomit return.

Moving in seemed like a cleaner system after not too long.

“I can’t believe you’re ditching me.”

“I’m not ditching you!” Charlie yelled for the third time, arms full of bags containing his clothes, Atari, and German shepherd painting.

“Feels like it,” the older man grunted from the couch, not making a move to help his former roommate.

“What do you want from me, Frank,” Charlie turned, scowling, “You want me to move Mac in? Huh? So we can bang on the shitty futon and kick you out all day?”

“You don’t seriously bang all day.”

“We kind of do,” Charlie sighed, arms open and dropping his bags, “I can’t live here, man. I want to be with Mac, okay?”

“You’re really gay, aren’t you?” He wasn’t snipping. Rather, Frank had the tone of a father, or what Charlie presumed a father would sound like, trying to talk on the level with his child. Charlie respected the shift and tried to accommodate by taking a seat beside Frank.

“Not really,” Charlie endeavored to explain, “Consider it... Mac-sexual.”

“What about the waitress?”

“She’s different,” he looked down and ran a hand through the back of his hair, “She’s... I mean Mac is...”

“Stop right there,” Frank waved a hand, “I get it.”

“Huh?”

“You looked down when you were talkin’ about the Waitress. You smiled when you talked about Mac. That’s it, Charlie. You’re in love.”

The thought gave Charlie pause and for no reason he could see, tears to his eyes. He grinned though, even as his vision got blurry, and hugged Frank beside him.

“I think I am, Frank.”

“Then I ain’t gonna keep you. You got a sweet deal with him and you’ve been happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

Charlie grinned and wiped at his eyes, trying to keep it together, but Frank’s words hit home. He said everything Charlie had been bottling up for three months and never told anyone. For whatever reason, hearing those things broke Charlie in a wonderful way and he clung tight to his friend.

“Thanks, man.”

“Hey, don’t get all queer on me,” the older man laughed gruffly, “You just... take care of yourself, okay? And don’t let Mac do nothing you don’t want.”

“Got it.”

Charlie spent a little more time than his stomach could handle in that musty room, but he felt better for it. The entire walk to Mac and Dennis’, Charlie felt lighter and brighter than he had in all the time he’d been hiding his feelings for Mac. And he had a feeling that things were only getting better for him, for whatever it was worth.

—

The knock at the door prompted Mac to burst from his room like it was on fire, skidding over the hardwood floors in his socks. Charlie was here. Charlie was moving in. He’d been pumped about it all week, never shutting up about it to Dennis, who of course was fully aware well in advance. It was hard to miss another person living in the apartment, even if Mac and Charlie mostly kept to the bedroom. For example, Dennis’ food was slowly disappearing, and he knew that it wasn’t just Mac’s appetite this time.

“Yes, okay, Jesus,” Dennis snarked from the couch over the excited babbling from his roommate.

“Whatever, dude, you’re jealous,” Mac grinned and opened the door, revealing Charlie and his massive pile of worldly belongings, cradled in his arms.

“Hey babe.”

Charlie snorted and shoved his stuff to Mac to take while he slipped in, avoiding the inevitable kiss for now. Mac pouted but, as was his way, obediently took the load of laundry and miscellaneous things Charlie had deemed his and carried them for his now live-in boyfriend.

“Charlie,” Dennis called from the couch, not entirely rising for a proper welcome, “Welcome to the apartment, man.”

Charlie grinned, clenching his hands in his pockets, “Thanks Dennis.”

“And if you ever take my food,” Dennis pointed at him, “I _will_ kill you.”

There was a beat when Dennis and Charlie held each other’s gaze and tension reached an uncomfortable strain. Mac cleared his throat and shifted Charlie’s luggage to one arm, taking the smaller man by the wrist, “Right, well, me and my _boyfriend_ have some mattress christening to do.”

“Gross,” Dennis snorted and took his cue to vacate the living room, as the two of them had been getting noticeably louder over the past few weeks, less and less careful to keep it under wraps. Now that they had no reason to, he didn’t want to even try to block it out while watching the Pats in the living room.

“Boyfriend,” Mac said, close to Charlie’s ear as soon as Dennis’ door closed. He pulled him in by the waist, lips grazing his cheek, “ _Boyfriend_.”

“You’re my boyfriend, dude,” Charlie giggled, turning his head to kiss him. Mac grinned and returned the kiss briefly before pulling him into his room, throwing his luggage to the ground, and toppling down on the bed with him. Charlie rolled on top of him, straddling his waist as they made out on Mac’s bed. Actually, this was _their_ bed. Realizing the change sent a rush through Charlie and to his hands, pinning Mac’s shoulders down as their kisses became more heated and needy.

“Mac,” he sat back, panting softly, “Take off your pants.”

“Good idea,” Mac nodded, grinning crookedly, “I’m gonna wreck your ass, boyfriend.” One hand gripping the meat of his ass possessively, the other sliding up to his groin. Charlie huffed, half a laugh, half a moan, and pushed his groin to Mac’s stomach.

“Just try it, fag,” he bore his teeth playfully and for a second, Mac faltered.

“What’re you doing?”

“Can’t handle me, twink?” Charlie shoved him backwards so his back hit the mattress and Mac’s eyes went wide, “I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

“W-Whoa, Charlie—”

“They’re right, dude,” he sat up to his knees over Mac’s chest, “I’m the top here. And from now on, I’m gonna be wrecking _your_ ass, you got it?”

Mac gaped, jaw working uselessly to find words. The blush in his cheeks said everything for him. Mostly, for Charlie to continue.

It was a simple fact that Mac kept forgetting; Charlie was a survivor. Survivors are brutal. More importantly, when they’re done taking shit, they’re _done_. And Charlie had decided he was done with Mac topping; at least for now.

That was how Mac ended up on his knees with Charlie fucking into his mouth, hands clenched tight in his hair to keep him from moving except how Charlie wanted it. Tears were rolling down Mac’s cheeks but his eyes never looked away from Charlie’s face; his hands never strayed to touch himself, even though he was painfully hard; his mouth never stopped sucking and licking as much as he could.

“That’s it, baby,” Charlie exhaled roughly, jerking both Mac’s head and his own hips in tandem. Mac gagged around him, “Good boy, Mac, you’re so good...”

Mac whimpered and snuffled for breath.

Charlie thrusted once more and came down Mac’s throat, which he drank up without protest. Charlie stumbled back to the bed, panting and with a blush that extended down to his chest, and Mac was just sitting in his place, gasping and hunched over himself.

“Good?” Charlie sniffed and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Need a minute,” Mac replied hoarsely.

Charlie waited, tapping his feet on the carpet, before Mac joined him on the bed. Charlie eyed his erection and looked up for an order, but there was none. Mac had been broken. He instead looked to Charlie for permission.

“I wanna watch you jerk off,” Charlie finally decided and sat back to watch him. Mac touched himself, as ordered, and came with a whine in under a minute. Charlie grinned, “You’re such a pussy.”

“If you’re gonna give me shit, you can leave.”

Charlie kissed him and hugged him from behind. Under his breath, he sang a mangled song, “Who’s a sexy boyfriend? It’s Mac, yes it’s Mac. And he’s the best bottom bitch ever, yeah.”

“Fuck off,” Mac grinned and leaned back into him, loving the comfort of another body at his back. Charlie ducked his face into his neck and kept singing, even when Mac laughed and smacked his thigh to get him to stop.

“I think I love you, man,” Charlie admitted quietly, chin hooked over Mac’s shoulder. There was a long pause before Mac shifted his shoulders and replied.

“I love you too.”

“Gay.”

 

End.


End file.
